


The Team Trap

by EllanaSan



Series: Have a Drink Sweetheart (Hayffie Prompts/one shots collection) [36]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Feels, F/M, Post-Canon, Post-Mockingjay, Sort Of, anyway, i mean it's Haymitch so..., they're doing a parent trap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:22:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23908408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllanaSan/pseuds/EllanaSan
Summary: “What’s theverygood reason that’ll get her to come?” Katniss asked.Peeta was silent for a moment, his hand stilled on her back. “It involves a technical white lie.”In her experience, lies were hardly ever technical or white.
Relationships: Haymitch Abernathy & Katniss Everdeen, Haymitch Abernathy/Effie Trinket, Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Series: Have a Drink Sweetheart (Hayffie Prompts/one shots collection) [36]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/71774
Comments: 16
Kudos: 248





	The Team Trap

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: please could you write a prompt based on the lyric “losing love is like a window in your heart. everybody sees you're blown apart" from graceland because apparently I love pain :)
> 
> It turned out into some sort of angsty crack and I’m sorry XD Blame Katniss. That’s why I don’t often write her pov, she tends to run away with a story haha. Also the story is huge so I would appreciate your thoughts!

Katniss was fiddling with the knitting needles, making a tangled mess of what was supposed to be a simple scarf. She wasn’t really paying attention though. Not to the ball of yarn Buttercup had claimed for himself and was happily pouncing on only to retreat and attack once more, not to the holes she left in her stitches, not even to Peeta who was reclined next to her in the bed and was absent-mindedly sketching… Mostly, she was clicking the needles together with aggravation.

Doctor Aurelius had said it would be good for her to find more hobbies. She already had her hunting and the leather book where she wrote about everyone she had lost but, apparently, it wasn’t enough. Something _fun_ , Doctor Aurelius had said, something that wasn’t _useful_ or _cathartic,_ something purely for herself.

She would rather be hunting than knitting, truth be told, but she had tried painting – and while it _had_ been fun, she and Peeta had ended up with paint everywhere (which hadn’t been the point) and they had made a mess of the studio he had set up in their basement, but she had zero talent for it and the fun had come more from what had happened between them (that still made her blush) than from actually painting – she had tried gardening but it left too much time for introspection and, if she wanted time to think a problem through, she would rather do that stalking the woods with a bow in her hand.

Her mother’s knitting basket had been abandoned next to the fireplace ever since the Quell. Katniss and Peeta had made changes to the house in the last year, they had made room for themselves around Prim’s little ghost. It felt like a slightly different house now. They had repainted the living-room, hung some of Peeta’s best paintings… And yet that knitting basket had remained right there, in the same spot, as if Aster Everdeen had just stepped out and would come back any moment.

Katniss knew she was never coming back.

Her mother had been very clear about that on the phone. And since the chances of her being allowed to go to Four in the immediate future were…

Anyway, the knitting basket had been right there and Katniss had decided that it was stupid to let the wool go to waste so…

“I suck at knitting.” she groaned, tugging on the yarn. Buttercup dashed after it, stomping on their legs over the covers.

Peeta chuckled, looking up at her work of the evening. “You could always ask Haymitch to teach you chess. That’s a hobby.”

“Right.” she scoffed, going back to aggressively clicking the needles together. “As if you can ask Haymitch anything lately.”

Peeta didn’t look so amused all of a sudden. He put the pad and its half-finished sketch of her knitting on the bedside table and gently brushed her long dark braid over her shoulder before wrapping his arms around her, his chin propped on her shoulder. “Are you worried? Is that why you’re twisting that poor yarn?”

She sighed and tossed the needles aside, relaxing against his chest. Buttercup immediately grabbed the ball of yarn in his mouth and she watched him run out of the bedroom, needles and the pitiful excuse of a scarf bouncing behind him.

That cat was becoming more savage by the day.

“I’m not _worried_.” she denied, leaning against him more when he shifted so he was sitting completely behind her, one leg on either side of her. She wouldn’t say it outright but she liked it when they sat like that. She liked it when he surrounded her and she could bask in the certainty he wasn’t going away, that she wouldn’t lose him again.

“I am a bit.” Peeta confessed. “The drinking is getting _really_ bad.”

She placed a hand on his thigh, right above the stump, without thinking about it, and rubbed his leg in a soothing manner.

“I don’t think I’ve seen him sober in weeks.” she reluctantly agreed.

And, usually, she was all for live and let live. She hated it when Peeta nagged at him about his alcoholism as if they had any room to judge what he did to cope. And if seeing him drunk out of his mind made her sometimes crave a fix of morphling, it was her problem, not Haymitch’s. But… Lately, the drinking had become bad enough that she was concerned.

“It’s almost as bad as after…” She stopped and swallowed. They tried not to talk about the war too much. It triggered episodes still. Anything could trigger an episode, really, even if Peeta was doing better. It triggered _her_ too. “After the City Circle.” she forced herself to finish. “He hit the bottle hard.”

At least, she thought he did. That whole part of her life was fuzzy, clouded by the morphling tablets she had been sucking like candies…

“I remember.” Peeta hummed. “He felt guilty.”

She flinched and turned her head aside, staring at the green wall. The wall hadn’t been green before. It had been a light brown. And it hadn’t been her room but her mother’s. She and Peeta had moved in the master after a while and he had painted it forest green for her. It was little aggressive but they had also painted the furniture white and… it worked. It was soothing. She loved their bedroom. It felt like a safe haven sometimes.

“I don’t want to talk about that.” she said quickly and he dropped an apology kiss on her neck. She closed her eyes, tried to forget he was kissing burn scars, and took a deep breath. “I don’t know why he’d be feeling so bad, though. He wasn’t doing great when we came back to Twelve but he wasn’t that bad either…”

“It started after I came back.” Peeta told her quietly. “He just hid it from you better than he did from me.”

She frowned. “What?”

Peeta sighed, clearly reluctant. “I go to his house in the morning when you’re hunting… Just to check he’s alright. I have to pick him up from the floor most days. I help him wash the puke. I make him eat something. I make him drink water. I tell him to try and stay sober today…” He shook his head. “You know how he is. By the time he shows up for dinner…” That night, he had been so drunk he had been laughing all the meal long for no reason that they could tell. It would have been funny if it hadn’t been so sad. “I’m scared one day I’ll go over there and I’ll find him drowned in his own puke.”

“Peeta…” she whispered, horrified.

“Every time I talk about slowing down or cutting off, he looks like he’s going to rip my head off.” He shrugged. “That won’t stop me from trying but maybe _you_ should talk to him. He listens to you more than he listens to me.”

“That’s not true.” she snorted. “He thinks you’re the smart one.”

“Yes, but he loves you more.” Peeta said, matter-of-factly.

“That’s not true.” she repeated, twisting aside and straining her neck so she could see his face. “ _Not_ _real_ , Peeta.”

A small smile stretched the young man’s lips. It wasn’t sad or wistful. “It _is_. But that’s alright with me. I love you more too.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t fight the smile or the soft kiss he planted on her lips.

“I can try talking to him but he won’t listen.” she sighed, resting her forehead against his cheek. “He’s a stubborn old mule. Nobody can make him do anything he doesn’t want to.”

“Well…” Peeta hummed. “There’s Effie.”

“Effie never could make him do anything.” she snorted. “That’s why they fought so often.”

“Effie always made him do everything she wanted to.” Peeta grinned. “She was just subtle about it. It was like watching an artist work…”

“So… What?” She frowned and turned a little sideways so she was snuggling against his chest on her side, with her legs tucked over his shortened one. “We call her and ask her to come? You think she could do something?”

She wasn’t convinced.

Most likely, it would end in epic screaming matches and Haymitch drinking harder just to drown the sound of her nagging.

“I’m not sure she _would_ come, that’s the whole problem.” He rested his head back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling, deep in thoughts. “It’s obvious what his problem is, isn’t it? He’s heartbroken.”

“Heartbroken.” she repeated, her frown deepening. “I suppose…” She wrinkled her nose. “But… I mean, a while ago, when he wasn’t drunk all the time, we were talking about…” She swallowed, took a deep breath, forced herself to remember Doctor Aurelius’ advice… “About Prim and he seemed to have made his peace with his family’s death. As much as you can make your peace with that, I mean.” She groaned. “I guess it could be about Finnick. He doesn’t like it when we talk about Finn, have you noticed?”

“Finn reminds him of Finnick, sure, but that’s not what he’s heartbroken about.” Peeta refuted. “I think when I came back… He was hoping I wouldn’t be alone.”

She didn’t get it.

“I don’t get it.” she said plainly.

Peeta sighed, as if he was a bit embarrassed. “Look, I don’t know for sure. I _think_ I do but… Some of it feels distorted like…” Like the memories the tracker-jacker venom had twisted. “Some stuff I can only guess at… But… I’m pretty sure he and Effie…”

“No way!” she scoffed, sitting up a little so she could see him. “They hate each other. No way.”

“I don’t think they do.” Peeta denied, shaking his head. “She asks about him every time we talk.”

Katniss shrugged it off. “That’s because she’s polite.”

“There were things when we were…” He stopped himself, closed his eyes, and Katniss tensed. If he had an episode, she would need to bolt and fast. But he simply reopened his eyelids. “They called her bad names down there, Katniss. _District_ _slut_. _District_ _bitch_.”

The thought of prim and proper Effie Trinket getting called that sort of names made her ill-at-ease. “But… She wasn’t hurt. Was she?”

Nobody had ever said Effie had been hurt. She had been so unchanged after the war, the only time their path had crossed… The same old Effie, down to the leather heels… Sure, her eyes had seemed a little off, distant, aloof… But… 

“I don’t…” He shook his head. “I think yes. I don’t remember. I just… _Abernathy’s bitch_. That’s what they called her the most. _Abernathy’s_ _bitch_.”

It made her feel cold and nauseous. “But that could be because she was our escort… I mean… She was Haymitch’s escort for how long? It’s…”

“Did he say anything about her since you came back?” he cut her off.

“No…” She tried to think back but… “I don’t really talk about Effie, you know.”

Or think about her, really, which was probably not very nice. Effie, for all her flaws, had always been there for her.

It was Peeta who called dutifully every two weeks to check on her.

“I do.” he told her. “To test the waters. He always gets worse afterwards.”

“Then, _stop_ talking about her.” she scowled. “If you’re right… If you’re right and there _was_ something…”

“I’m right.” he insisted. “It’s so obvious… It’s like… I don’t know… It’s like he’s blown apart inside and he doesn’t know how to put himself together. Anyone who’s been in love and lost that person could see it.”

It was a small blow – a low blow – and Katniss tucked her head under his chin just so he wouldn’t see how well it had hit. She didn’t think he had meant it in a mean way but…

“I love you.” she reminded him.

“I know. I love you too.” he hummed, distracted. “The thing is… I don’t think she’s doing much better.”

“Last time, she said she had moved to a bigger apartment and that she had found a fancy job.” she pointed out. “She’s partying every night and she has that new boyfriend…”

“That’s what _she says_.” he argued. “But she sounds… She sounds desperate sometimes, Katniss. Frenzied, almost.”

“That’s Effie for you.” she muttered. “She’s always _extra_.”

“Jo thinks the same.” he informed her. “She’s been asking her to move to Four with them but Effie won’t hear of it.”

“ _Jo_ is worried about _Effie_?” Katniss asked incredulously. And more importantly… “Are you having secret serious conversations with people behind my back?”

“No?” he replied, uncertain. “You were with Haymitch when Jo called, last time. It was just a good time to talk while he wasn’t around.” He shrugged. “And Jo cares about Effie in her own way. She’s trying to spin it like she and Annie could use the help with Finn but Effie isn’t taking the bait.”

“Wait, wait, wait…” Katniss temporized, pushing herself away. She sat facing him, not caring one bit that the sheets and blankets were becoming a mess they would have to fix before they could attempt to sleep. “So, to sum up: Haymitch is drinking himself to death because he’s missing Effie… Effie – who has been hurt even though nobody has thought to warn me – isn’t doing well but is pretending she is… You’re thinking she’s still in love with him – if they ever _were_ in love in the first place – don’t deny it, I can see it on your face…” Peeta smiled that sweet fond smile he always kept for her and that made her melt from inside. But she wasn’t fooled. “And now you have your plotting face on.”

“I’m not _plotting_ , really…” he denied.

Nope, she wasn’t fooled.

“What’s the plan?” she asked. “And do you _really_ think it will help Haymitch? Because I don’t want him hurting more and, I’m sorry, but if we have to take sides in this, I’m with him.”

“Not really surprising.” Peeta teased. “The two of you…” He shook his head. “Anyway. The plan is… What if we ask Effie to visit.”

“She won’t.” Katniss pointed out. “You ask her every time, she always has an excuse.”

“Yes, but… What if we have a _very_ good reason for her to visit?” he insisted, wriggling his eyebrows in a ridiculous fashion. She tried not to laugh but she failed. He was the only one who could make her laugh anymore. And he looked so pleased with himself… She briefly forgot they were talking about something serious and she kissed him deep.

They got distracted.

And the sheets and blankets became even more tangled.

Afterwards, though, once she was lying on top of him like a content sleepy cat and his blunt nails were lightly scratching her back the way she liked, she remembered they had been having a serious conversation about Haymitch.

“What’s the _very_ good reason that’ll get her to come?” she asked.

Peeta was silent for a moment, his hand stilled on her back. “It involves a technical white lie.”

In her experience, lies were hardly ever technical or white. “The kind of lies Haymitch fed us about the rebellion?”

“It’s not about payback.” he countered. “And it’s in his best interest.”

“That’s what he thought too.” she reminded him and then sighed. “Fine. Tell me.”

“Well…” he hummed. “Haymitch is kind of sick.”

“Haymitch is strong as a ox.” Katniss scoffed. “He spent a whole hour on his porch in his underwear last week and he didn’t even catch a cold.”

Which hadn’t stopped her from scolding him to hell and back because it was one thing to get too drunk to remember to get dressed and another thing to do that in the middle of winter. She had thought he would get pneumonia at the very least but he barely had a running nose for a couple of days.

“Alcoholism _is_ a kind of sickness and it _is_ getting out of hands.” he pointed out. “If we call Effie and tell her Haymitch is in bad shape and we don’t know what to do… I’m betting she will come running.”

That would make Effie worry though and it wasn’t really nice.

“Okay.” she said. “And what happens when she shows up? She’s going to see it’s not that bad and…”

“I’m not sure it’s not _that bad_.” Peeta cut her off. “I’m honestly scared he’s going to kill himself one of this day.”

She hated the thought.

She couldn’t bear even entertaining it.

Losing Haymitch…

She couldn’t face it.

Haymitch was as essential to her as Peeta. He was a mean old drunk who was a pain in her ass but he was also the only adult who had stuck by her no matter what, had never died on her or abandoned her, and had proved multiple times that he would do _anything_ for her. She loved Haymitch. In a very different way than how she loved Peeta but she loved him. And she needed him. She wasn’t ready to be without a mentor yet.

“Fine. So… Effie comes, sees he’s at the bottom of a bottle, and?” she prompted. “You think she will… _what_?”

“Best case scenario?” Peeta sighed. “They have a huge fight, Effie has the nervous breakdown she’s working herself toward and Haymitch steps up and takes care of her because he’s at his best when he has a project on his hands. For all his protests, he likes _nurturing_ , haven’t you noticed? Hopefully, he drinks less, she gets better and they fall back in love.”

That sounded far too hopeful and idealistic.

“Worst case scenario?” she asked.

“They kill each other.” he deadpanned.

“Peeta!” she scolded, whacking his chest.

“Okay…” he chuckled. “Well, worst case scenario… They have a huge fight, Haymitch is too much of an idiot to fix it, Effie gets mad and goes back to the Capitol… He goes back to drinking too much and we’ll have to step in and, you won’t like that, but I asked Doctor Aurelius if he knew a good rehab clinic. That involves having Haymitch somehow committed against his will for his own safety, though.”

That was a definite _no_.

“I won’t do that.” she warned him. “And I _will_ fight you.”

“I know.” he admitted. “So let’s hope for best case scenario.”

She wasn’t happy with him. He _had_ been having secret serious conversations about people she loved.

“Why is it _Haymitch_ who has to fix it?” she grumbled. “Maybe it’s Effie who messed up.”

“Right.” Peeta scoffed.

“What?” she insisted, irritated. “She’s annoying and overbearing and she’s so _Capitol_ … Maybe it’s not Haymitch at all… Maybe it’s…”

“Trust me.” Peeta muttered. “I don’t know what he did but it was probably him.”

Katniss pursed her lips and laid her head back down on his chest. In the last year, she had learned it was best to choose her battles sometimes in a relationship but that didn’t stop her from thinking that he was blind when it came to Effie Trinket. She didn’t hope to ever understand the bound between them. He had taken to their escort like a fish to water from the very first day. She wouldn’t say she was a saint in his eyes but the woman could _hardly_ do wrong, he always had excuses ready for her.

It figured he would take Effie’s side in this mess.

_She_ , on the other hand, would remain loyal and take the side of the one who had been pushed further into addiction by the breakup. If Peeta was right and Haymitch was so torn up over losing her, surely he _wasn’t_ the one who had broken things up.

She had strange dreams that night but they were gone in the morning. She was up at dawn, as usual, but she didn’t go hunting. She watched Peeta move around their kitchen, cooking their breakfast, as she clutched a mug of warm tea between her cold hands and she made a decision.

“Let’s do it.” she suggested. “Now.”

Before she lost her nerves or remembered why having Effie Trinket around for a long period of time would drive her crazy.

“Now?” he repeated, glancing at the old clock on the wall. It was always late, that clock, five minutes at least. “It’s four a.m. in the city…”

“Perfect.” She shrugged. “You said it needed to sound urgent.”

“Yes, but…” He frowned. “That’s going to alarm her.”

She rolled her eyes and hopped off the kitchen chair to the phone. “Do you want her to come or not? Give me the number.”

“ _You_ ’re calling?” Peeta asked, flabbergasted. He hadn’t expecting her to steal her plan, clearly.

Well… She wanted to get it over with before she lost her nerves.

_And_ she didn’t want him to go planning behind her back again.

“Number?” she insisted.

He didn’t even have to look for the small notebook they kept the phone numbers in. He knew them by heart. _Go figure_. She listened to the phone ring and ring… Maybe Effie was out. Maybe Peeta was wrong and she _was_ enjoying her life in the city, partying and what not…

And then, right when she was about to give up and hang up, there was a click and a small hesitant voice that didn’t sound _anything_ like the woman she remembered. “ _Hello?”_

“Effie.” she said, a little shocked by how frail the escort sounded.

“ _Katniss_?” Effie asked, clearly puzzled. The woman cleared her throat and, while she remained anxious, there was no hint of fragility in her voice anymore. _“It is_ awfully _early here… Is something wrong?”_

“Haymitch is sick.” she declared bluntly. “It’s bad. We need you to come.” Peeta’s eyes grew wide and he made wild gestures she didn’t knew how to interpret. She frowned and gave it her best guess. “ _Quickly_. You need to come quickly.” Peeta kept waving his hands frantically, shaking his head… She _really_ wasn’t good at charades. “As quickly as you can.” He was shaking his head still so she took that to mean she needed to hang up. She did and turned back to him only to find him holding his face in his hands. “What?”

“She’s going to think he’s _dying_.” Peeta chided, tossing a guilty glance at the phone. “I should call her back and explain better…”

But he didn’t reach for the phone.

And Katniss got why.

It would make her come quicker.

Peeta hesitated.

Katniss didn’t. “I’ll go check on Haymitch.”

He winced. “It’s not pretty this early in the morning, Katniss. I can…”

“I’ll go.” she snapped, a little irritated that he had hidden from her how bad it was.

And it _was_ bad, as it turned out.

Haymitch had passed out face down and butt naked on his couch. There was a dry puddle of sick on the floor, dirty plates and mugs on the coffee table that were starting to rot, the smell was awful and she was pretty sure there would have been rats if Buttercup hadn’t haunted the place like a second home.

She didn’t know how Peeta dealt with that kind of things. He probably woke Haymitch up gently, scolded him all the way up to the bathroom and helped him shower.

Katniss had a more direct approach.

She filled a jug with water at the kitchen sink, making a face at how disgusting his kitchen was – she came every day and she _knew_ how it looked but it hit her anew that day, as if the conversation from the night before had opened her eyes, and she felt bad about not helping more sooner – she walked back into the living-room and, without pausing to check if he had a pulse because he hadn’t even _stirred_ the whole time she had been there, she tossed it at his head.

She deftly jumped back when he came to, bolting to his knees, slashing at the air with his knife, looking like a damp naked madman.

It took several seconds for his crazy eyes to go back to normal and for him to spot her standing there with her arms crossed. He wiped his face off, sat down on his heels and sneered at her. _“The fuck?”_

“Get a shower and put some pants on.” she hissed, resolutely _not_ looking down. She didn’t want to see _horrors_. “We’re cleaning your house today. It’s a sanitary hazard in here.”

Haymitch blinked, confused and still slightly drunk. “What?”

“Shower. Clothes. Cleaning.” she snapped again. “Don’t make me say it again.”

He started at her as if he had never seen her before. “ _What_?”

She glared at him. “I _will_ hose you down if I have to. Payback.”

He had threatened to hose her down for days when he had brought her back from the Capitol and she wouldn’t move from the couch. Sae would try to coax her but Haymitch would plain down _threaten_. One day, he had gotten fed up, had tossed over his shoulder and had dumped her into the bathtub, clothes and all. It wasn’t hosing down but it wasn’t any better in her book – even if it had worked and she had been forced to wash.

“What’s gotten into you today?” he grumbled, rubbing his face harder. “Where’s the boy?”

“No more coddling in the morning, Haymitch.” she snarled. “If he had told me how bad it was earlier, I’d have taken charge.”

“ _Fuck_ help us all if _you_ ’re in charge…” he muttered but he did get off the couch and he did drag his feet to the stairs. She started trying to sort the dirty plates in the kitchen – some would have to go – when she heard the water being turned on upstairs. What she _didn’t_ hear was the ancient boiler kicking in. She opened the tap and waited with her hand under the water for a few minutes and then narrowed her eyes further. It remained cold.

Was Peeta aware of this?

How many things had they missed?

By the time he shuffled back into the kitchen, wearing frayed sweatpants and a grey long-sleeved shirt that was too thin for the weather – and probably dirty because she didn’t want to guess when was the last time he had done his laundry – she had filled a whole trash bag with irrecoverable plates. She tossed him a dark look. “How long since your boiler broke?”

“Mind your own business.” It was the most sober she had seen him in weeks and he glared at her, making a beeline for the coffee maker. That thing was very old too and she didn’t see how it could still be working properly.

“If you freeze to death because you’re only taking cold showers and your heating system isn’t working, it’s my business.” she retorted. “I’m coming back with a clean plate and some breakfast for you. If you touch _one drop_ of liquor while I’m gone, I’m letting Peeta send you to rehab.”

He had been waving her off like she was an annoyance but _that_ got his attention fast. His head jerked up and he sneered. “Tell your lover boy I’m not going _anywhere_. _Fucking_ mind your own _fucking_ business, both of you. _I’_ m the adult here and…”

“Then _act_ _like_ _it_.” she snapped, storming out and slamming the door behind her. Peeta had clearly anticipated her wishes because there were three steaming plates with toasts, eggs and bacon on the table. He looked concerned and got a glare for his troubles. “You didn’t tell me his boiler was broken.”

“What?” He frowned. “I didn’t know… He didn’t say…” He stopped and sighed. “I’ll track down the plumber and get him here first thing.”

“ _Before_ the water freezes in the pipes and they explode.” she demanded.

Peeta nodded but pouted a little. “It’s not _my_ fault.”

“It’s _both_ of our fault.” she snapped. “You kept the bad stuff from me to protect me and I was blind and got to use to things being bad.” She wrinkled her nose. “And I hope Effie knows how to get dry puke off a carpet because, right now, I’m thinking we should just rip the whole thing off.”

She grabbed two plates and trekked back to Haymitch’s house, careful not to slip on any frozen patch.

Haymitch, as it turned out, glared at her as soon as she stepped back inside. He was nursing a mug of coffee that, she hoped, wasn’t spiked. “I _ain’t_ cleaning.”

She put the plate in front of him and shook off her coat. “I’m _really_ pissed, Haymitch. You’re going to do what I say and try not to be too much of a pain about it.”

He grumbled under his breath as he stabbed at his eggs without much apparent appetite. He never had much of an appetite lately but he also knew better than to waste food so Katniss hadn’t really worried. Sure, he had lost some weight but he wasn’t… He _was_ a little thin though, wasn’t he? He came to dinner every night – they dragged him there if they had to – but did he eat other meals during the rest of the day?

“What bee got in your bonnet this morning?” he challenged, after a few minutes of muttering to himself and slowly munching on his toast.

“I love you and I don’t want you to die because you’re a stupid heartbroken idiot.” she snapped.

That brought him short.

He looked up at her, guilt and regret flashing on his face. It was quickly replaced by self-loathing and self-depreciation.

“I let it get bad, yeah?” he sighed. “I’m almost out anyway… It’s gonna be a while before the supply train comes in… I’ll… I’ll slow down, alright? Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. Ain’t kicking the bucket just yet.”

She shook her head and forced a forkful of eggs in her mouth even though it left her nauseous. “You say that but you stay in a house without a working heating system when _you know_ it’s gonna snow soon.”

“I’ve got the fireplace…” he protested. “I’ve got plenty of wood…” And yet the fire hadn’t been lit that morning and, one glance at it had told her embers had grown cold several days ago. “Ain’t suicidal, girl. You don’t need to worry.”

“You’re not suicidal, you’re letting yourself fade.” she grumbled. “And you _can’t_ keep living here. It’s… I don’t know how you’re not sick.” He made a face. A small guilty face. She glared. “What is it? You’re feeling sick?”

“Nah.” he dismissed. “Strong as a horse.”

“ _Haymitch_.” she growled.

He rolled his eyes. “It’s just a rash. Nothing big.”

“Where? Show me.” she demanded.

He hesitated long enough that she started wondering if the rash was in a place she would rather not see, but then he sighed and pulled his shirt off, turning around so she could see his back. There were red patches that came from a rash indeed. And he had clearly scratched it. With his dirty nails. Now, Katniss had never been interested in healing the way her mother and her sister had been but she knew when someone was being an idiot. And this, right there, was idiot behavior.

“Fleas.” she commented.

“Maybe.” he mumbled, red in the face.

She didn’t care that he was embarrassed. She cared that they had let him live in that house for so long just because… Just because what? It was normal for his house to look like a dumpster? It had almost become a joke between them and… She shook her head. “You’re coming home with me until we can sort this place out.”

“Like _hell,_ I am…” he grumbled. “This is _my_ house and…”

“ _Haymitch_.” she snapped again. “You’re coming home with me or I’m knocking you off and dragging you there.”

It took a while longer to convince him but he didn’t resist half as much as she thought he would. By the time Peeta showed up with the plumber – who made a real face when he saw the inside of the house – he had an overnight bag packed. It was light. Mostly because his clothes were all dirty and Katniss didn’t want to risk bringing the flea infestation over to her house.

Still, she settled him in the guest bedroom that had previously been _her_ room and glared at him until he accepted to take a bath that would actually be warm and shave the dead animal that ate half his face while he was at it. The first thing he did when he came down, wearing borrowed pajamas pants from Peeta that were too short on his calves, was pour himself a glass of wine that he gulped down with trembling hands.

At least, the beard was gone and his hair was clean.

Katniss knew better than to argue the liquor.

“I can go home. It ain’t that bad.” he kept insisting.

“It _is_ that bad.” Peeta snapped at some point. “And Cal said the boiler needs to be replaced anyway so you’re not staying there until the new one arrives.”

“Stop sulking.” Katniss ordered, dropping an overfilled plate in front of him for lunch. “And eat. You look like I could knock you off with a punch.”

And she wasn’t physically the strongest. She was good with a bow but physical strength had never been her forte.

Haymitch looked like he was tempted to make a run for it but, faced with their two equally determined faces, he relented and ate his meat and spinach pie. He didn’t contribute much to the discussion of _how_ they were supposed to turn his house into something livable again but he did shrug when Peeta joked that maybe the best thing to do was burn it down to the ground.

Katniss watched him all afternoon. That was how she knew he sneaked mouthfuls out of his flask when he thought they weren’t looking. Still, he helped them haul the garbage bags out of his kitchen and concurred with her that the carpet had to go if they ever wanted to get a clean floor again.

She wouldn’t say he looked _happy_ at dinner that night but he had apparently realized at some point during the afternoon that he had actually managed to scare them and he seemed a little sheepish about it. He made an effort with the wine, she saw, he only got three glasses during the meal.

He also went upstairs as soon as dinner was over, claiming he was tired.

It was close to midnight – they had long gone to bed themselves and Peeta was diligently working on making her forgive him – when the frantic knocking at the door started.

“What…” She frowned and pushed her boyfriend away to bolt out of bed. She slipped on his shirt in a hurry and dashed in the corridor, leaving Peeta to fumble after her with a curse – he needed to reattach his prosthesis and that would take time – thinking maybe Haymitch had gotten himself drunk and locked himself out of the house. But Haymitch was right there, on the landing, wearing borrowed pajamas and rubbing sleep off his face.

“Thought I was here to rest or whatever? The _fuck’s_ going on?” he muttered.

Katniss shrugged and hurried downstairs. The knocking had become more desperate. It wasn’t even _knocking_ anymore, it was full on _banging_ on the door with a fist alternating with the more low sound of the flat of a hand being slapped on wood.

“Katniss, wait.” Peeta called in an urgent whisper after her, at the top of the stairs. “We don’t know…”

There was a _thump_ and Haymitch’s cursing. “Careful, kid. Get that on properly before you go playing the knight in shining armor, yeah? We don’t need you falling down the stairs and breaking your neck…”

Haymitch couldn’t have been really concerned by whoever was at the door because he stayed with Peeta. Katniss wasn’t either. If someone had wanted to hurt them, they would have sneaked in, not made enough of a racket to raise the dead.

She slipped the bolt out of its lock and opened the door to find herself face to face with a devastated stranger.

The woman was blond, disheveled, and in tears.

“His house is empty!” the stranger half-exclaimed, half-sobbed. “His house is _empty_! I ran there first and it’s _so_ _cold_ and he is not there and… Am I too late? Am I _too_ _late,_ Katniss? Is he…”

And it was only then, as the woman collapsed in her arms, sobbing her heart out, that she recognized _Effie Trinket_. The escort certainly didn’t look fabulous anymore. Her pink coat was frayed and her blond curls were wild and…

“I can’t… I can’t _breathe_ …” Effie cried into her shoulder. “He’s dead, isn’t he? He’s dead and… Where _is_ he? The body? I need… I need to see… I need… I _can’t_ …”

Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around Effie, stunned but recognizing the deep raw grief in the woman’s voice.

“No…” she heard herself say. “He’s… Effie, it’s…”

“What _the_ _hell_?”

Haymitch exclaimed just as Peeta flicked the light switch on.

Effie went rigid in her arms. She felt the woman look over her shoulder and then Katniss’ arms were empty and she barely turned in time to see their escort attack their mentor – because that was what it looked like: _an_ _attack_.

She pounced on him, colliding so hard with his chest that he staggered back a few steps, her arms locking around his neck, her heaving sobs becoming even more desperate…

“You’re not… You’re not dead yet.” the escort stuttered. “You’re… You’re _alive_ … You’re…”

Her voice broke into a huge sob. She actually _hiccupped_.

Katniss slowly closed the front door and locked it again, looking at Peeta. Her boyfriend was still standing next to the stair, his hand still on the light switch, and he looked both startled and slightly guilty.

Haymitch was taking it in stride though. He embraced Effie, one of his hands gently rubbing her back. He looked puzzled though.

“Look at the state you’re in…” he chided. “Why _the_ _fuck_ would I be dead? Now… _Hush_ , princess… Calm down… I’m fine. We’re _all_ fine. Sweetheart…” His voice went gradually softer until it hit a tone Katniss had never heard before. “Come on, Effie… I’m fine. It’s all good. Breathe, yeah? I’m right here, I promise…”

“I went to your house and it was… it was _empty_ and _cold_ and…” She had managed to collect herself long enough to say as much but then collapsed into hysterical sobs again. “I thought… I _thought_ …”

“Boiler’s broken.” he explained, bringing the hand that had been rubbing her back up to coil around her nape. “I’m staying here for a few days… You _sure_ chose your moment to finally show up…”

The small rebuke was met with an incredulous stare as the escort drew back to look at him.

“But…” She let her voice trail off. “I don’t understand. I got the call this morning… She made it sound… I thought… I thought it was _the end,_ Haymitch. You have _no idea_ what I had to do to _get_ _here_. I… I had to _beg_ Plutarch for enough money for a train ticket and he didn’t know about you so when I told him he naturally insisted on _helping_ and… There is a train _full_ of the best doctors at the station _right now_ , I just ran ahead because… I couldn’t _wait_ for them to… I _had_ to be with you… The very thought that you would…”

“Sweetheart, I don’t know what kind of hairspray you’ve been sniffing but I’m _fine_.” Haymitch cut her off, hesitantly brushing her hair away from her face. “And glad to see you…”

“But…” Effie stopped talking and touched her damp cheek, looking exhausted and very old all of a sudden. “Aren’t you _dying_? You look awfully _chipper_ for someone who is supposed to be dying…”

“I don’t get it…” He shook his head. “ _Who_ said I was dying?”

“Well, Katniss!” Effie scoffed and finally let go of his neck, as if she had forgotten she was still holding on, to turn and gesture at the girl.

Katniss felt she had missed her opportunity to sneak out of the room undetected. Out of the line of fire, Peeta was wincing.

“I never said he was _dying_.” she pointed out, sullen. “I said…”

“ _Haymitch is sick_.” Effie hissed. “ _It’s bad. We need you to come. As quickly as you can._ ” Katniss didn’t think she had ever seen their escort _that_ furious. She looked… _Thunderous_ didn’t cover it. She looked like wrath itself. She looked ready to tear her in half. “If this is your idea of a joke, girl…”

“ _Wow, wow, wow_ …” Haymitch cut in, putting a restrictive hand on Effie’s shoulder. Katniss hadn’t even seen her move but the escort has crossed half the distance between them. _Impressive_. “There’s a misunderstanding somewhere ‘cause I sure as _hell_ ain’t sick or dying. Girl, what did you tell Effie?”

“I _just_ told you what she told me.” Effie growled. “She let me think you were _dying_. All day, I have been _hoping_ to arrive _in time_. All day, I thought I would be _too late_ to tell you...”

“Yeah, hold _that_ thought for later ‘cause I wanna hear it.” Haymitch cut her off. “But I’m sure you got it wrong… Katniss, you…”

“I spent _the whole day_ thinking I had _lost_ you.” Effie snapped. “Do you have _any_ idea…”

“ _Yeah_.” Haymitch interrupted again. “I _do_. And _that’s_ not on the girl, is it? _You_ …”

“It was my idea.” Peeta bravely piped up, managing to sound like a child about to get scolded.

Katniss would have rolled her eyes if she hadn’t felt like she was five herself.

Both mentor and escort whirled around, having apparently forgotten all about him.

“What did you say, boy?”

“I beg your pardon?”

He flinched under the dual exclamations and winced harder. “Haymitch _is_ doing really bad. That’s not a lie. Right, Katniss?”

Haymitch glared at her and Effie still looked like she wanted nothing more than to _kill_ her but Katniss nodded all the same. “It’s true.”

“So we thought if we could get you to come, Effie…” Peeta continued. “I mean…”

Whatever it was he meant, he didn’t seem to be able to put it in words.

“You mean you tried to set us up.” Haymitch sneered. “And you thought it was a good idea to let her think I was _dying_? _Fuck_ , kids, that’s _fucked_ up even for the likes of us…”

“ _Language_.” Effie snapped. “ _Truly_ , you haven’t changed _at_ _all_.” She tossed the mentor a pointed glare. “What do the children mean when they say you are doing _really bad_?”

“What do _I_ know?” Haymitch scoffed. “They woke up today and suddenly it was all about my living habits.”

“Well, they _are_ deplorable.” Effie deadpanned. “I do not know _how_ you even survived _this long_ without _me_ to remind you to shower regularly.”

Something dangerous flashed in Haymitch’s eyes and he took a step forward, getting very much in her space.

Katniss tensed, ready to intervene if things got physical – because she wouldn’t put it past Effie to slap him or Haymitch to… to _shove_ her or something.

“Yeah, well, maybe if you hadn’t slammed the door in my face…” he growled.

“Oh, don’t you _dare!”_ the escort shouted, jamming an accusative finger in his chest. “You know full well _why_ I told you to get lost. You know _full well_!” She shook her head. “This is _just like you_! Making me _worry_ _sick_! Making me _cry_ to the point of a headache! Making me…”

They would never know what else it was he made her do because Haymitch, clearly fed up with the whole thing, grabbed her by the back of the head and kissed her.

Katniss would have preferred if he hadn’t. 

It wasn’t a small chaste kiss either. She saw his tongue swipe at her lips before disappearing into the escort’s mouth and she could have lived a thousand years without seeing _that_.

She made a face, looked at Peeta to see he actually looked more amused than disgusted…

“I hate you.” Effie spat, shoving him away.

Katniss scowled harder because there it was. All of their efforts and…

“No, you don’t.” Haymitch chuckled, unperturbed.

Effie let out a dangerous growl that would have Katniss reach for an arrow if they had been in the woods. Before she could blink, Effie was kissing him again.

And it got even more disgusting.

Even Peeta wrinkled his nose this time.

“You’re freezing. Come to bed.” Haymitch mumbled against his lips, having apparently lost _all sense of decorum_.

Katniss was alarmed. She _so_ didn’t want _that_ to happen in her guest room. _Her former bedroom_.

But happening, it was, it seemed, because Effie was letting him steer her toward the stairs… Peeta barely got out of the way…

Haymitch was going to lift her up to carry her up the stairs, Katniss could see that clearly because Peeta had tried that move a few times – although it had never really worked out because of the leg – when Effie seemed to remember herself and stopped kissing him. She licked her lips and blinked, as if coming out of a daze Haymitch seemed _very_ determined to put her back under.

At least, Katniss figured that was _why_ he was now sucking on her neck so eagerly.

She wanted to throw up.

“Wait, wait…” Effie said.

Haymitch let out a grunt of protest but she shoved him away again. It didn’t look any different than the other shoves she had given but, somehow, Haymitch seemed to get the message this time because he sighed and stepped back, looking both smug and sheepish.

“Sorry.” he muttered, looking anything but.

Their escort rolled their eyes. “We _are_ going to bed, simply because today has _exhausted_ me. And _you_ will apologize. At _length_. And _very_ thoroughly.” Haymitch immediately perked up as if she hadn’t just ordered him to grovel. It took Katniss a moment to get the implications and she wished for a time when she had been innocent about all that. “But…” Effie watched her and Peeta in turn. “There _is_ a train full of doctors who are probably making their way to the Village as we speak and who are under orders from President Paylor herself to do _everything_ they can to make sure Haymitch survives.” 

“Ah.” The victor snorted. “Forgot about that part…”

“ _I_ did not.” Effie huffed. “And I did not forget about what _you_ _two_ did either.” Peeta looked down in contrition. Katniss stubbornly stared back at Effie for at least thirty seconds before lowering her gaze, annoyed to feel so guilty and repentant like a scolded child who had disappointed their mother. “We _will_ address your part in this tomorrow. But, for now, you _will_ sort this mess out with the doctors yourself.”

“Tell them it’s a miracle.” Haymitch joked, looking happier than he had in weeks. His hands were on Effie’s waist and he was not so subtly tugging her back toward the stairs.

“Tell them it was a _misunderstanding_.” Effie hissed. “And do _not dare_ make it _my_ fault.”

Katniss watched them both go up the stairs with an annoyed pout, stiffening when Peeta put his hand on the small of her back. He would have do to some apologizing of his own later, she decided.

“She knows this is _our_ house, yeah?” she grumbled. “She hasn’t been here an hour and she’s already bossing us around like…”

She grunted. 

“Bright side, Katniss…” Peeta laughed. “I think we can safely say figuring out how to make Haymitch’s house livable isn’t our problem anymore.”

That was true.

Even that house wouldn’t survive Effie Trinket’s will. 

**Author's Note:**

> So? What did you think? Let me know your thoughts!


End file.
